Memories

It's funny - the things we hold on to. The scraps of paper that contain someone's handwriting, the phone numbers of those whose voices we will never hear again, the pictures of moments we have shared. The stuff of life. My priest always talks about how Catholics have "holy stuff."  We bless water, statues, animals, houses. We use oil, bread, wine, water, hands, incense, music, and more to convey our faith. It's truly an incarnational religion.  It envelopes our senses.

I used to think my stuff bogged me down. Sometimes I still do. But, I also long for more stuff. More tangible memories. More evidence of the good times. More touches of people I love and miss.  I want a shrine.  I want something to see, smell, look at.  Something to hold on to that reminds me that you were real.  You are real.  You loved me.  That love was real. 

I'm sick of burning bridges and dumping stuff. I want to hold on. To remember these moments. To smell the smells and hear the bells of life. I miss the sound of your voice. The smell of your perfume. I miss your spirit and your care. I miss your essence. Your being. I miss you.

I'm starting to know too many people on the other side of the veil. I hope for heaven in a different way than I used to. I'm no longer "assured" of salvation. I do hope for it. I long for communion with all, all at the same time. I long for the joy and the peace of those empty spots and holes in my heart to be bound up. Forever. Unity in community. Union. Communion.

Til we meet, til we meet, til we meet at Jesus' feet. Til we meet, til we meet, God be with you til we meet again.